


FATWS One Shots

by Meracles



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Caring, F/M, Fluff, PTSD, implied sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:41:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29065257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meracles/pseuds/Meracles
Summary: Bucky Barnes ~ The Falcon & The Winter Soldier era
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Kudos: 19





	FATWS One Shots

He looked in the mirror with trepidation. Worn out eyes framed by long, straggly brown strands. Beard getting uncomfortably long. How did he let himself get to this point? His hair unkempt, his face showing the 100 plus years more than he liked. Is this what being brainwashed did to him? When he’s had his sense of self pulled from his being time after time after time, how can he pretend to be okay anymore. His hands gripped the sides of the sink as he let out a drawn out sigh. He could hear you laughing with Sam in the living quarters, calling for him. It was so easy for them to slip into everyday life; the smell of popcorn filling the apartment as Sam brought over the big bowl of sweet and salted. You’d suggested a movie night – some much needed downtime from missions. Bucky just wanted to be in his room, figure things out, not be any part of this charade everyone else called life.

Sam called out again for him, making Bucky tear his eyes away from the ghost of a reflection. He rubbed the back of his neck as he padded out the bathroom, seeing you reclining back on the couch, legs bare as they stretched out onto the coffee table.

“I’m, m’gonna sit this one out guys, I’m not feeling in a movie sorta way,” Bucky mumbled his apology, not meeting your eye as he made his way to the sleeping quarters. You hang on the back of the couch, Sam about to protest but you catch his arm and shake your head.

Bucky needed his space.

He was pouring over his notebook lit by only a desk lamp when you knocked softly on his door. You opened it a crack to see him looking up to you, a tilt of your head and soft smile creeping in kind eyes.

“Hey,” you say softly. His mouth quirked a little at the side, nearly giving you a sad smile but the movement just wasn’t in him.

“Hey.”

“Did you, I mean – are you alright?” you asked, hanging on the door handle. You didn’t want to step into his room until you were invited, even though you had been in his bed many times before. When the mission became impossible to forget, when there was hurt both physical and emotional. You had an understanding, neither one of you available for romance, but available for _need_.

“Yeah, no…maybe,” he sighed, his brows pinching together as he relaxed back on his chair. You took this as a cue to come in further, leaning on his desk and reaching gentle fingers to comb back his hair. Bucky gave you a huff and a shy grin in response. “I just, don’t know who I am anymore…”

You glance down, seeing old army photos of Bucky in the 107th, the man looking up from the photos looking distinctly different to the one sat in front of you. You couldn’t help the sad soft expression on your face as Bucky looked up at you.

“Could I – could I ask a favour of you?”

“Sure Buck, anything.”

“I think it’s time.” He gave you a knowing look and you smiled in response, rubbing his shoulder.

———————–

He sat in front of you with his back against the chair, head a little forward as your fingers run through his hair pulling the brunette locks straight. A little part of you was sad to see the pair of scissors in your other hand. Not that you knew any different, sure you’d seen him with shorter hair in pictures but he always had it long. Tied in a small bun when he was training, hung loose like a shield from the outside world when he was above you, a private curtain for your hungry kisses.

“Are you sure?” you ask him once more, and he gives a little nod.

“I only trust you to do it, doll.”

The pet name rolls out and with a _snip_ its begun. The floor begins to be covered by a mahogany rug of hair as you work your way over his head, now and again eliciting a hum from Bucky when you rake your fingers through to check the strands are even. The prickles up his spine when you lightly blow away the errant wisps on the back of his neck. It’s silent apart from the _clip clip_ of scissors, cutting away the shield, the façade, the memories. With each tendril passing his gaze it’s like a weight off his mind, and he closes his eyes as all the bad parts of him seem to fade into a non-existence.

You bring him back to the present with a soft kiss to the back of his neck, making his head jolt up. You’d moved in front of him, pressing his legs together as you climb on his lap, scissors replaced with a straight razor and a flannel.

“Ready?”

He nods again, this time his hands coming up to rest on your hips as you guide his jaw carefully, flannel wiping over before the razor drags across his jawline. There’s a flinch in his fingertips, a moment of doubt as you pause, wiping it clean on the towel rested over your thigh.

“It’s okay…” you whisper softly, meeting his eyes as he nods again and relaxes. Blue eyes fluttering closed as you continue your ministrations. Enjoying how sharp his jawline looked when it’s speckled with the millimetre stubble you’ve expertly left, rather than the wiry scratch of a full beard you know you’ll miss running over your thighs. Your knife skills seem to work perfectly at keeping his shave clean and easy, and you’re done before he knows it.

“There.” You announce softly. You fold the razor into the flannel and lean to the side a little so Bucky can see himself in the mirror behind you. He looks up, staring at himself and his eyes are wide, fingers pinched into your side. You frown a moment your free hand rubbing his shoulder. “You- don’t you like it?”

You can see his eyes begin to water as he swallows hard, giving a small nod.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, strangled with emotion as a smile spreads wide on his face. “No-yeah…yeah I do…It’s just, different.”

You nod in agreement and carefully run your hand over the side of his face, soft and smooth and press a kiss to his cheek.

“I hope you know Buck, you were handsome either way.”

“It wasn’t about that,” He said, glancing your way. “But thanks.”


End file.
